


Hunted

by silentdescant



Series: Snapshots [25]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Animal Play, Biting, Costumes, M/M, Petplay, Roleplay, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8345650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: He’s finding it surprisingly sexy, the sight of Mitch all done up in shiny, fake leather and an overtly feminine outfit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> KINKtober Day 21: Pet Play

Mitch comes out of the bathroom wearing black thigh-high boots and a faux leather leotard with a short, frilly skirt at the hips. He’s comfortable and confident, walking across the room in such high heels, and having tried on heels himself, Scott has mad respect for Mitch’s balance. He watches Mitch sift through the tissue paper in the box until he finds the mask. He puts it over the front of his face and reaches around to latch it, the tall bunny ears swaying as he fiddles with the straps. 

He doesn’t have the gloves on yet, but—“You look like her,” Scott murmurs. He’s finding it surprisingly sexy, the sight of Mitch all done up in shiny, fake leather and an overtly feminine outfit.

“I need the hair, still,” Mitch replies. “I’ll have to buy a wig tomorrow. Do you think we have time before the party?”

“Yeah. You feel like a dangerous woman yet?” Scott asks.

“Do I look like one?”

Scott licks his lips. It’s hard to find the words to respond; his throat is actually tight, his jaw tensed.

“Do you hate it?” Mitch asks. He turns around. The bunny ears wave.

“No,” Scott manages. “I like it.”

Visibly pleased, Mitch shakes his head and makes the ears waggle. “Do I look fuckable?”

That’s an understatement if Scott’s ever heard one. He swallows around the thick, heady arousal making his mouth water. “I wanna fuck you,” he says.

“Excellent.”

“I wanna… bite you,” Scott says then. “I wanna… bite.” The words fall from his lips unceremoniously, and Scott’s aware that he’s not being clear, but the urges spinning through his mind make even less sense.

“I’m into that,” Mitch says offhand. He’s barely even paying attention to Scott, now, preoccupied in digging through the box for other costume components.

A growl builds in Scott’s chest. He needs Mitch to pay attention, he needs Mitch to _look at him_. “I want to bite you,” he says again in a low, gravelly voice. “Hunt you.” That’s it, that’s the word that keeps coming back to him.

“Hunt me?”

“If you run, I’ll chase you,” Scott says. “I’ll catch you.”

Mitch bites his lip and smiles. He’s paying attention now. “Because I’m a little bunny and you’re a predator?”

Scott doesn’t even have to answer. He bares his teeth instinctively, imagining Mitch’s soft, smooth skin caught between them. It only takes a moment before Scott’s resistance fails and he dives for Mitch, arms outstretched.

Mitch darts away, quick like a bunny, and cackles from the other side of the room. His heels should be tall enough to impede him, but they don’t. Mitch catches his eye and says, “Come and get me, then.”

Then Mitch disappears from the room. Scott launches into action, reaching automatically for the space Mitch’s arm should’ve been. He growls in frustration.

Mitch is fast, but in those boots, he’s not at all quiet. Scott stalks him around the house, jumping out from around corners hoping to catch Mitch unawares. It never works, and Scott’s desperation grows with each passing moment.

At last, he hears Mitch’s shoes on the hardwood stairs and hurries after him. He’s only a few steps away, now, but Mitch avoids his grasp. Scott imagines his hands as claws, leaving angry red marks on Mitch’s skin. If only he was close enough to reach.

When Mitch makes it to the bedroom, Scott puts on a burst of speed and tackles him to the bed, pinning Mitch with all his weight. He gives in to the primal urge to grind his hips against Mitch’s ass, and the hungry desire to bite the back of Mitch’s neck. He bites hard, wanting to see evidence of his claim, and Mitch shudders under him.

“Yes, _fuck_ ,” he moans.

Scott doesn’t have words to reply, only animalistic grunts and groans. He wants to rip into Mitch, wants to ravage him and _consume_ him. His hands are kneading Mitch’s wrists, claws—fingernails—digging in and leaving delicious little red indents in Mitch’s skin.

“Yeah, come on, fuck me,” Mitch gasps.

Scott doesn’t need to be told twice. He stretches Mitch’s garment aside and ruts against Mitch’s bare ass for a moment, reveling in the rough friction. He shifts his grip on Mitch’s wrists, holds him with one hand, and uses the other to slick himself with spit.

Mitch moans loudly. “Please, please,” he says. “Do it hard.”

His words barely compute in Scott’s mind. He forces his cock in and fits his teeth to the marks on Mitch’s neck again, clamping down to assert himself as he thrusts. Mitch whines and shudders and finally submits, his hands going lax, palms twisted to face up. His submission sends Scott into a frenzy; he pounds into Mitch’s ass without a thought to the pain, and when Mitch whines again, crying out in desperation, Scott comes with a wordless, primal shout.

Scott relaxes almost immediately, returning back to himself in the space of a few breaths. As awareness creeps back in, he realizes Mitch is still waiting for release. He pulls out and flips Mitch over, forces himself not to look at the bunny mask covering half of Mitch’s face. Mitch’s hands settle in Scott’s hair and Scott takes Mitch into his mouth.

“Don’t bite,” Mitch gasps. He’s thrumming with tension and his fingers clench and pull, and Scott wants to bite. He feels the urge and forces it down, out of sight and out of mind. He focuses instead on the familiar taste and smell of Mitch, of his come, and ignores the fact Mitch is spread out under him, completely vulnerable. His body’s so soft, so inviting, Scott can’t resist leaving a few scratches with his fingernails.

“Where did that come from?” Mitch asks eventually.

“I don’t know.” The words feel unnatural in Scott’s mouth. He swallows a couple of times, trying to form a coherent sentence for Mitch. “It’s like you’re my prey.”

Mitch chuckles breathlessly. “Well, any time you want to hunt me, you go right ahead.”

“You keep this costume and I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

 _fin_.


End file.
